


hallelujah, I love him so

by 5ftjewishcactus



Series: Unlove You Prompt Fills [6]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Asexual Character, Asexual Relationship, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), BAMF Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), First Kiss, Fluff, God Ships Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Hurt Aziraphale (Good Omens), Love, Love Confessions, No Sex, No Smut, Other, Post-Almost Apocalypse (Good Omens), Quote: Tartan is stylish (Good Omens), Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-24
Updated: 2020-02-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:15:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22856101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/5ftjewishcactus/pseuds/5ftjewishcactus
Summary: Following their lunch at the Ritz and a night of drinking, Aziraphale struggles with confessing his feelings for Crowley and questions if his feelings are even real. He decides an angry confrontation with the Almighty, even if She isn't listening, is in order. Surprisingly, God answers.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Unlove You Prompt Fills [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1521779
Comments: 11
Kudos: 63
Collections: Aspec-friendly Good Omens





	hallelujah, I love him so

**Author's Note:**

> As with my other stories, even though they aren't explicitly stated, Aziraphale and Crowley are asexual and Aziraphale is chubby. 
> 
> Written for the Unlove You Prompt "I hate you, you bitch" Prompts from [un-love-you](https://un-love-you.livejournal.com/) on livejournal.

It had been a wonderful day after their trials were behind them. Lunch at the Ritz, followed by drinks back at the bookshop. It all felt so normal. Exchanging stories about what they’d done leading up to being reunited at the airbase. Crowley had been especially entertained by Aziraphale’s story about possessing an evangelical preacher. Aziraphale wanted to make Crowley laugh like that for the rest of their days. He wanted to spend the rest of their days together, just like this. Several times Aziraphale had wanted to say more. But that fear… years and years of fear kept him from being able to say the words. 

So, when Crowley made to go home, Aziraphale offered him the bed upstairs. Assuming it and the flat upstairs had been restored with the rest of the bookstore. Crowley had taken the offer, now that he could without fear. 

“Good night, Crowley,” Aziraphale said, standing at the bottom of the stairs as Crowley stumbled his way up.

“Night, angel.”

Aziraphale watched as Crowley disappeared up the stairs and waited until he heard the click of the bedroom door closing. He turned back to the backroom and began cleaning up the empty wine bottles and glasses. He found Crowley’s sunglasses discard on the couch. He picked them up and set them gently on the table. 

He let out a deep breath and shoved the table out of the way and then kicked the rug away, exposing the sigil on the floor. He didn’t need to set the candles this time. He didn’t actually want to talk to the Metatron. He wasn’t exactly sure if he wanted to talk to the Almighty either. But he did have a few choice words for Her. He stood in front of the sigil, hands clenched into fists at his sides. 

“I hate You, You bitch,” he said, voice steady as he looked up towards the ceiling. “Six thousand years I’ve done everything You wanted. Everything I thought we, angels, were supposed to do. Is this… is this my punishment for lying to You? For giving the flaming sword away? Put Crowley in front of me on the wall of Eden, keep dangling him in front of me for the next six thousand years. Let me fall in love with him. And him with me. But even now, when we’re free from Heaven and Hell, my fear of Heaven, of You, keeps me from letting him in.”

Unlike Crowley’s previous outburst at the bandstand, Aziraphale never shouted. He was angry. He was hurting. Crowley had been right when he’d said that the Almighty wasn’t talking to any of them. Aziraphale hadn’t spoken to Her since She’d asked him about the flaming sword. 

“I love him,” he continued. “But You know that. You’re sitting up there, wherever You are, watching all of this. I think Crowley was right when he said You planned it this way all along. But did You plan for us? For our feelings? Are they a lie, too? All part of Your plan?”

He closed his eyes and let out a shaky breath. 

“I’m meant to love all of God’s creatures. That’s what You told me to do. But it’s different with him. Did you plan that? Did You make me fall in love with him? Or are my feelings my own? Can I love him, truly love him? Or will You take that way too?”

Aziraphale turned his back to the sigil and let his shoulders sag. He was so very tired. Not in the way that Crowley was when he slept, but deep in his soul. A tiredness born out of six thousand years of hurt and betrayal. 

Suddenly, a bright light filled the room, causing Aziraphale to turn around to face it.

“Aziraphale. Angel of the Eastern Gate,” a commanding voice said.

“Yes, Lord?” 

“Where is the flaming sword I gave you, Aziraphale, to guard the Gate of Eden?” 

For a moment, Aziraphale wondered if he was supposed to answer the same way he had six thousand years ago. 

“I gave it away,” he said instead, looking directly at the light. 

“I know. You did it to protect Adam and Eve. You could’ve taken it back. It was there in your hands again. But you didn’t.”

“I didn’t want it. Then or now. I’m not a fighter.”

“I know that, too. When I asked you the first time, it was a test. You lied to protect Humanity. Even in the days leading up to Armageddon, you did everything you could to protect them. Even at risk to yourself and the one you love.”

Aziraphale nodded. 

“What happens now?” he asked.

“That’s up to you. And Humanity.”

“And Crowley?”

“You tell me, Aziraphale.”

Aziraphale smiled. He loved Crowley. He did, with all his heart and soul. The only thing he loved more was Humanity, but after the last few days, he suspected Crowley felt the same way. They had fought tooth and nail to save the world, as well as each other. 

The light faded away and Aziraphale waved his hand, erasing the sigil from the floor. He didn’t need it anymore. He smiled to himself, an excited wiggle traveling through his being, as he turned and made his way to the stairs. He didn’t bother to knock on the door, it was technically his flat, his bedroom, even if normally he would’ve knocked to give Crowley the forewarning. But something told him he didn’t need it. Crowley was sound asleep in the center of the bed, buried under the tartan blankets like it was the most normal thing in the world. Like he belonged. Which he did. 

Aziraphale sat on the edge of the bed and for several minutes simply watched the steady up-down rhythm of Crowley’s breathing as he slept. 

“Crowley,” he said, placing a gentle hand on Crowley’s shoulder. “Crowley, wake up.”

It took a couple of gentle shakes for Crowley to wake. 

“Angel? What’s it?” Crowley asked, blinking his eyes at Aziraphale. 

“I love you,” Aziraphale said. 

Crowley sat up and stared at Aziraphale, the whites of his eyes completely covered by the yellow of his serpentine eyes. 

“Angel? Is this a dream?” he asked.

“No.” Aziraphale shook his head and reached up to cup Crowley’s cheek. “I love you, Crowley.”

“Oh, angel.” Crowley smiled. “I love you, too.”

Aziraphale, spurred on by his newfound courage, leaned in and kissed Crowley. A simple brush of lips but it was enough for the moment. 

“Sorry I woke you. I needed to tell you.”

“You can always wake me up, angel. For anything, but especially the important things. Like this.”

Aziraphale grinned as Crowley grabbed the hand against his cheek and pulled it over to kiss Aziraphale’s knuckles. 

“Come to bed, angel. It is a very comfortable bed, even with all the tartan.”

“Tartan is stylish.” Aziraphale slipped his shoes off and removed his sweater before sitting on the bed next to Crowley. “Besides, this tartan is special.”

“Is it?” Crowley squinted down at the blanket. 

Aziraphale reached up and untied bowtie so he could hand it to Crowley. “Yes, it is. I designed it myself.”

“Is this the same tartan that was on the thermos?” 

“Yes. And the bike rake and the cookie tin in the backseat and on your jacket when I walked into Hell wearing your face.”

“Angel!”

Crowley grabbed Aziraphale and kissed him. Aziraphale laughed into the kiss and held Crowley close. 

“All this time, all these years,” Crowley whispered, staring into Aziraphale’s eyes.

“You were always better at it than I was. Your actions, constantly saving me. That was you telling me all these years how much you cared. Even when I kept you at arm’s length. I needed a way to tell you without words.”

Crowley smiled and kissed him again. “I love you, angel.”

“I love you, Crowley. Now go back to sleep. I’ll still be here in the morning.”

Crowley nodded and laid back down, his head on Aziraphale’s lap. Aziraphale ran his fingers through Crowley’s hair while the demon fell asleep again. There were no doubts as he watched over his love. He realized hadn’t actually needed the Almighty to tell him their love was true. He could feel it. Aziraphale suspected She wouldn’t be talking to them again anytime soon, but that was okay. They were free from Heaven and Hell and from Her. As Crowley had said, they were on their own side. And that was all Aziraphale needed. 

**Author's Note:**

> When I was going through the prompt list, I knew this one had to be Aziraphale but it took me a bit to decide who exactly he was talking to. Directing it at the Almighty was too tempting. 
> 
> You can follow me on tumblr [@5ftjewishcactus](https://5ftjewishcactus.tumblr.com/) or on twitter on my main [@5ftjewishcactus](https://twitter.com/5ftjewishcatus) or on my sfw gen fandom [@2ambiace](https://twitter.com/2ambiace) or my dbh [@asexualhankcon](https://twitter.com/asexualhankcon).


End file.
